Prove Me Wrong
by kittymchale
Summary: What could Sam offer Kurt that no one has been able to before? How would Sam prove Kurt wrong after years of heartbreak and dispair? Kurt/Sam slash. Multi-chapter


Chapter 1: Told You So

"Why are you helping me? I mean, I thought you kind of hated me after all of that crap from last year," Sam asked me, sitting down in the orange chair in front of the sink. With his back to the faucet, he leaned his head back into the porcelean sink, slopping slushie all over the place. His hair was stained red, the hardest color to get out of everything, your hair, clothes, bags and even your shoes. Luckily, I wasn't the one being slushied this time.

"We're still teammates and we need your voice," I explained, hiding myself from him. I didn't want to let him in. I built up my steel walls around my heart, trying not to feel anything for Sam. Everytime I let anyone in, my heart was crushed. It started with Finn. He crushed my heart, unknowingly I supposed, but it was heartbreak all of the same. I didn't want to fall hopelessly for Sam again, just like I did for everyone else that was even slightly nice to me.

"Thanks, dude. You're pretty cool," Sam said, half-smiling. I turned on the faucet, hot water pouring into the sink. Running my fingers through Sam's sticky hair, the red liquid disappearing down the drain. I rinsed it out as well as I could before I pulled a few paper towels out of the dispenser next to the sink, "I would have done the same for you, you know." Sam said, staring up at me with wide eyes. I dried Sam's wet mop with the towel, getting a triumphant smile in return. He stood up from the chair, nodding. His content face twisted suddenly, staring at the stain that covered the front of his shirt. He frowned, getting a better look at the gigantic spot on his shirt.

I admit, I did think he was kind of precious at that moment, kind of helpless in his place. Even when I witnessed the whole thing, I couldn't _not_ help him. It started out with me walking out of the Spanish room, running some of my Glee Club ideas by Mr. Schuester before rehearsal later. Making my way down the vacant hallway, I noticed Sam walking the same way. He gave me a quick wave, his face lighting up a little bit. I gave him a wave back not really giving as much feeling as I could have. I wasn't paying enough attention to notice some of the football Neanderthals walking down the hall as well, armed with red slushies in their big, meaty grips. Before I could warn him, Sam's face was covered in the icy liquid.

"Dudes!" He sputtered, "We're on the same team! What the hell!" The three jocks turned around, laughing at the blonde in front of them. The muttered something about Glee Club, not for the first time. Sam let them walk away, shaking his head a little bit. This happened several times to him, but this was the first time I really helped.

"Sam, come with me," I said, walking up to him. I grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the bathroom. Sam kind staggered in there, the overpowering scent of heavy cologne and Doritos hitting us like a train. Sam smelled it like a pro, while I on the other hand, coughed a little bit as I pulled the chair in front of the sink.

That's what brought us to this moment, standing in front of the mirrors, Sam shaking his hair out. Splattering water all over the place, Sam pulled his dirty shirt over his head. I instinctively looked away, not to weird him out. I knew very well what I had to do. I was tormented every single time I even thought about talking to another guy, just because I was tormented about "liking them". People treated being gay like a disease, like if you got too close you would catch it. It was almost painful, everyone thinking I was attracted to every guy that I saw. It drove me crazy. I liked to compare it to guys liking girls. Were guys attracted to every single girl that they saw? No. Exactly.

"Dude, you don't have to look away," Sam told me, staring over at me, almost offended. I turned toward him cautiously, "What's your deal?" Sam asked me, digging through the backpack he had with him. He pulled out a red sweatshirt, holding it loosely in one of his hands.

"I'm sorry, it's just most guys get," I paused, looking for the right word, "Weirded out, to say the least, when I'm around." I glanced at my fingernails. One of them was scuffed up and uneven, making me cringe slightly. Sam put his hand on my shoulder, turning me around. I gasped as I whirled around, his touch electrocuting my shoulder. I could still feel the tingle of his fingertips long after he let go.

"Doesn't it piss you off? Doesn't it make you angry how every single person gives you an offensive, backward glance every time you pass? Doesn't it infuriate you how there is no possible way anyone can be freaking different without being ridiculed? I think it's all shit, dude! _Everyone _wants to be accepted, yet no one offers acceptance!" Sam growled, throwing his sweatshirt on the floor. He stood in front of me, nearly seething. His face was reddening, his chest rising and falling faster than normal.

"Sam, calm down. Do you not think I understand? Throwing your sweatshirt on the dirty floor isn't going to fix anything," I chuckled awkwardly, peeling my eyes away from the angry boy in front of me. He bit his lip, trying to calm himself down. He bounced on his heels for a moment, looking up at the ceiling like there was something there that would ease his thoughts. Sam looked down at me, his eyes flickering. Our eyes locked on to each other's for a quick second, unable to say a thing. My thoughts died off for a second, unable to come up with a solution out of this situation I caught myself in. He almost engulfed me, sweeping away the worries I had.

_Kurt. HEY, KURT. Remember last time? Remember last time this happened? Remember the nights you spent, tucked deeply under your blankets, clenching your pillow with tired fists, sobbing endlessly into your pillow? Remember thinking that the tears would never stop as you fell hopelessly in love with someone who didn't return it? Remember feeling so alone, begging someone, something to take you away? Remember the tears that spilled down your face, hot and salty, dripping past your lips and absorbing into your nice sweaters? Remember all of that? I think you should look away now. You should stop looking at Sam before this happens to you again. Look away before you end up crumpled on your bedroom floor after school, not even having enough strength to make it to your bed. You should stop before you have to blast sad music and sob until your dad calls down to ask you to turn it down. No one's here for you, Kurt. You know that. You better look away before you're reminded. _

My heart shrieked at me, all of the feelings rushing back to me. All of the feelings of hurt, of pain, of loss. All of the begging to just be lifted off of the Earth. Not even lifted. I would have settled for _falling _off. Yeah, that would have sufficed. Then, almost painfully, I ripped my gaze away from Sam's, glancing around the room. I had nothing to look at. I just _couldn't _look back at Sam. I couldn't look, just so the feelings wouldn't come to me.

Trust me, I did _not _believe in love at first sight. That was all crap made up to satisfy little girls who believed their princes would come someday. So, if you're a little girl, I'm sorry, but your prince isn't coming. It's sad but true. You're going to have to deal with it someday. It's inevitable. Don't believe anything like that. One man isn't going to waltz into your life, sweep you off of your feet and leave you happy forever. No way.

Anyway, I knew that if I stared at Sam long enough, I wouldn't magically fall in love with him. I just knew he would spark that little light in me again, super-gluing the dead pieces of my heart back together. That little light would make me look over at him during the simplest of tasks. I would notice the way he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration when he couldn't figure out something. I'd notice the way his eyes would travel across the room when Mr. Schuester starting talking about senseless, pointless things. I would notice the way he would lunge forward whenever he had to type a key with his pinky in Keyboarding class.

I couldn't fall back in love with him.

I had already traveled down that path with him and both of us here at the beginning of senior year was too unbearable for me to even think about. Back when Sam enrolled here in eleventh grade, I could swear I was in love. It wasn't a stalker-ish kind of love where I just followed him around and spied on him while he slept. It was the classic case of one best friend falling for another. After he enrolled here at McKinley, I kind of tried to show him the ropes. I gave Sam a full tour of the school, free tutoring and everything else a student could possibly need to get started at a new school. I remember walking side by side with him, his simple, black Converse shoes squeaking on the tiled floor.

"Thanks, bro," He said, smiling and nodding as I showed him to the Science room. I nodded back, laughing under my breath. He gave me a goofy wave and disappeared into the room, leaving me alone in the vacant hallway. I walked away, clutching on to the strap of my bag. I remember clearing my throat, walking back to my next class, thinking about everything that had happened.

Later that week, Sam met me by my locker, leaning his shoulder on the ones next to mine. He was probably in someone's way, but I'm sure he didnt' care. He swept his hair out of his eyes, clutching his books in his right hand.

"I just wanted to thank you for all of your help these beginning weeks. You're pretty chill, dude. We should hang," He offered, talking animatedly with his left hand. I blinked stupidly for a second, wondering if Sam was actually being serious or just trying to hurt my feelings like last time a guy asked me if I wanted to "hang". I ended up being hoisted up on top of the ceiling by several of the football players with my hands tied down with the scarf I wore over there. I was stuck there for 14 hours until Mercedes swung by after I didn't show up to meet her at the mall on time.

Instead, I just nodded. Sam seemed different and I didn't think he could tie me to the roof on his own. If he tried, I suppose I could fight my way out of his grip. I glanced down at my shoes. They seemed tough enough that if I kicked someone it would hurt. I nodded again, more sure this time.

"Sure," I said, airy and light. Sam's eyes widened, his hazel irises flickering. He stood up straight again.

"I'll give you a ride to my house," He told me, walking away with another goofy wave. This isn't when I started to take a liking to Sam. I knew right then he just wanted to genuinely "hang out", for lack of a better word. It was just innocent and fun, nothing that I should have taken seriously. So, that day after school, Sam gave me a ride back to his new Lima home.

I stepped into his sleek, black truck, sitting siffly on the passenger's seat. Sam plopped in his seat on the other side, groaning. He threw his backpack in the little back seat, grumbling about how much homework we had. Starting the truck, I watched his long fingers reach out to flick on the radio, blasting classic rock songs. He banged his head a little bit, poking his tongue out of the side of his mouth. I couldn't have but laugh at him, watching him flip his hair all around. He continued this until he accidentally hit his nose on the steering wheel, blood pouring out, running down his mouth. My eyes visibly widened as I gasped and started shuffling through the glove box for a napkin or something. There was nothing in there. I admit, I started flapping my hands like some kind of mentally challenged duck before I realized I always kept a towel in my bag in case of slushie attacks. Sam tilted his head back, plugging his nose with his thumb and middle finger. Blood was dripping down his arm.

"Shit," he hissed through his teeth, looking up at the ceiling. I turned down the music with one hand and used the other to hand Sam the white towel. Blood stained towel number 1. I think I had a towel in every stain color at that point.

"Just, clean yourself off," I groaned sympathetically, attempting to look away. I got a bit squeamish around blood for some reason, like a lot of people. Sam looked over at me, his eyes apologetic.

"Sorry, dude," He apologized, his voice muffled from the towel, "Sometimes I do stupid things, if you didn't notice." He said, trying to muffle a laugh. He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes amused. Once his nosebleed dried up, we started driving back to his house. We didn't really say much, but Sam sniffled the whole way back.

"Welcome to my habitat," Sam chuckled as we entered his room. He threw his bag on his bed, took mine, set it gently on a chair and flopped down on to the floor. I walked over cautiously, sitting down next to him, "Dude, do you know how to play Mario Kart?" He sat up, his eyes sparkling.

"Umm, no?" I replied, raising an eyebrow. Sam looked offended and proceeded to give me a two hour long lesson on how to play the game. The whole time we were playing, Sam would nudge my shoulders, swerving me off course. We played for an hour or so before Sam flitted out of his room, leaving me there for a few minutes. I glanced around the walls. Two Def Leppard posters, several Kiss records hanging on the wall and a blue Avatar posted. I scoffed under my breath. He was such a _boy. _

Sam waltzed back in with a bag of chips and some juice boxes. He tossed me one of the pouches, a bright smile spread across his face.

"We should chill more often," He said, sincerity behind his voice. He meant it. _He meant it._

Sam and I hung out several other nights after that, mostly playing video games and doing homework. It was friendly and frankly, I enjoyed it. We were best friends. It was actually nice having a guy to go to, even if Mercedes was the queen of advice.

All of it changed when Sam joined the football team. He was forced to give up our friendship, even with the sincere apology in his eyes.

That's what brings us back to now, standing in the boys bathroom. He faced me, still pissed off.

"You know what I think? I think we're all _born _bisexual. How do you know who we are until we've experienced it all! I don't even care what people think. The only people who will be spending eternity in Hell are the people who don't believe it!" He raged, taking a step closer.

The thing that happened next was something I'd never forget.

Sam stared into my eyes for a quick second before abruptly leaning down and locking his lips with mine. My mind was screaming at me again.

_KURT ELIZABETH HUMMEL. LET GO. PULL AWAY._

I didn't want to. For the first time, I felt at home, secure. I felt like everything was going to fall into place for me, even though outside of the bathroom, everything was messed up again. I could feel Sam's hot, hissing breath on my face. It was an angry kiss, but the most meaningful I would ever feel. I couldn't even react to the way Sam's full lips and tongue were wrestling with mine, demanding dominance. It meant something. It meant something bigger than me. Bigger than you. Bigger than the world.

Sam pulled away from me, his frantic eyes searching my face for a reaction. I stood there, my mouth open, not able to say a word. Sam's huge palms retreated from the small of my back and made their way back up to my face, sliding their way from my cheeks to my ears. He pressed his lips to mine again, gentle and soft, leaving me sputtering and confused. Sam cleared his throat.

"Did you feel anything?" He whispered, his eyes begging for an answer.

_OH MY GAGA YES EVERY FEELING THAT COULD EVER COME TO LIGHT RUSHED TO ME YES_

"I can't," I whispered back, tears rushing to my eyes. I was lying quite obviously, my cheeks blushing furiously. I don't know why I started to cry, but I couldn't help but burst into tears when I ran out of the boy's bathroom by myself down the hallway, the familiar squeak of my shoes under me.

_I told you so._

**This is my first Kum/Hevans fic, so feedback would be appreciated. Love you all!**


End file.
